


Take It Slow

by nayanroo



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nayanroo/pseuds/nayanroo
Summary: A package containing infinite cosmic power flies across the galaxy, and the only way to solve the strange message it bears is cooperation between Thor and Loki.  Yeah... that's not going to be easy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joyyjpg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyyjpg/gifts).



> This fic sent me to the Shadow Realm. I hope you like it, giftee!! I tried to give you at least some of what you like.

The universe had changed.

Most of the beings passing him in the street didn’t give him a second glance, which was fine with him. Some days it felt like he’d been wandering for longer than they’d been alive, and any concerns they had he’d heard before. What use was the power of Odin Allfather here, on a planet only connected to Yggdrasil by the slenderest of twigs? What could he do that their technologies and strange magics could not?

Still, there were things in motion out here in the expanse that he could not ignore, and though his presence here had not been of his choosing he was making the best of it. It was giving him… perspective, something he realized now his son had accused him of lacking, though not in so many words.

Thor had grown up, he thought. When he wasn’t looking, when he’d been too absorbed in Asgard’s needs and Asgard’s pull, his son had become thoughtful and deliberate. Odin hoped with every fiber of his being it would be enough.

In the meantime, he had work he’d set himself, and so in the guise of a robed beggar, he made his way through the streets of a world with a name only pronounceable by its natives. Things he had heard about a meeting taking place here, one he needed to be present at. Nobody paid attention to the destitute anyway. Nobody would know he was even there.

The storefronts gave way to residences, towering structures full of apartments with narrow, filthy streets between them. Odin kept moving, leaning on his walking stick, holding out a metal cup with one gnarled hand when anyone gave him a second look. All the while he followed a thread of spun magic, one he’d tied to surges of a certain kind of energy, and when he felt its tug he hobbled that way as fast as his guise would allow, and arrived just as the meeting began.

Huddled against one of the walls, a being with a long proboscis and multi-faceted eyes was speaking to something—some _one_ —projected onto the opposite wall. Odin hunkered down and listened.

“…have what you asked for, my lord Thanos,” the being was saying. In one of its appendages, it held a thickly-wrapped bundle. “The Collector’s been looking for it, but I found it first, I did, took it right from the man who had it—“

“Are you certain?” Thanos was but a projection of himself, but even so, Odin felt the ripple of power outward, lapping at the edges of his own control. “Is it the thing I seek?”

“Was right where you said it was, yes, on the forehead of—“

“Yes, that’s good enough. Bring it to the usual place. Oh, and Scurt?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Take care of the eavesdropper before you go.”

The projection vanished at the same time as Odin felt another wave of power wash over him, ripping his glamors away from him. No longer was he a humble beggar; now he was revealed in the traveling leathers of an Asgardian, and the insectoid being, this _Scurt_ , was looking right at him. Then it was hissing and clicking, skittering toward him across the trash-strewn ground, and those who had stopped at the sudden reveal of a well-dressed stranger in their midst started screaming and running away.

Odin, though, held his ground. Slamming his walking stick on the ground, he swung it toward his attacker as the end shot outward to form a spear. He had not come all this way to die like this, and the slight resistance, followed by the scream as the insectoid alien was removed of one of its appendages, was satisfying. 

_I will not die this day,_ he thought. And then he spotted the wrapped package tucked up against the being’s thorax. If it was what he thought it was, he had to get it away from Thanos, far away. Any delay increased the chances for those at work against the Mad Titan to stop him, and Odin would see Ragnarok before he would see the universe ripped apart at the hands of such a madman.

Scurt followed him as he brought the fight out into the slightly less cramped street, dodging jabs from his spear and taking swipes with long appendages that were cruelly barbed. All the while Odin kept his eye on that package. Now he could sense the pull from the thing inside it, the whispers, and put up a barrier so that it would not ensnare him. His attacker was half in its thrall, which could make things difficult… but it wasn’t victory he needed, it was simply a way in.

And it came, a few moments later. Dodging two jabs from Scurt’s front appendages, Odin wove a spell and activated it, his fingers curled in front of him, and as though pulled on invisible strings the package flew from Scurt into his waiting hand. Without waiting for retaliation, Odin turned and ran, his spear collapsing down again. He slung the walking stick over his back and kept the package under one arm. He couldn’t lose this until he’d thought of a good place to put it.

Behind him he could hear Scurt screaming in rage and the sound of pursuit, and when he glanced back he saw that not just the insectoid but half a dozen others were hot on his heels. Had he only been a couple thousand years younger, he’d have been able to outrun them for true, but he could feel his body failing him. He couldn’t keep this up.

Using the last of his speed he put as much distance between them as he could, then threw a quick spell before ducking into a narrow alleyway, watching as his pursuers followed the magical double he’d sent along the wider paths. It wouldn’t hold up, of course, they’d find him soon enough, but he had enough time to do what he needed to do.

Holding the package out before him, he whispered words quickly, watching as the glowing threads of the spell settled into the fabric, burning brightly before fading away to invisibility. That done, Odin traced a few runes in the air before him, watching as their vibrant green light intensified before they merged and became a bright gateway. For a moment Odin looked through it, his heart aching for the golden towers and Branches-streaked skies of Asgard – for _home,_ a place he hadn’t seen in so very long. Then he pulled back and threw the cloth-wrapped package through and closed the portal, just as the light from behind him was blocked.

“Where’d you send it, old man?” Scurt asked, clicking toward him. “Where’s the pretty?”

“Far away from your master,” Odin replied. “Where he’ll never find it.”

“We’ll see about that, yes we will.” Scurt’s proboscis twitched. “Nobody resists the Mad Titan. Not even you will, Asgardian.”

Odin closed his eyes, smiling even as two of the other pursuers grabbed his arms and hauled him along. He’d endure, until his sons came for him.

Both of them.

*

He hardly dared to breathe as he cracked the door leading out of his suite of rooms. If he made a noise, if the door rumbled just a bit too loudly, he feared he’d be set upon by _another_ pack of councilors and regents and any number of people he’d put in charge of running Asgard while he taught himself as much of statecraft as he could handle, or responded to calls for aid from Earth. But there had been a rather loud _bang_ against the door a few minutes ago, followed by an equally loud _thud_ , and Thor worried someone might have been hurt.

Once the door was opened enough for him to peer out through the crack, he scanned the hallway – nobody was there, but neither was there any sign of what could have made the noises he’d heard. Thor tried to push the door open a little more, but found it met with some resistance, and craned his head around to look at the small, cloth-wrapped package wedged partly under the door leaf, blocking it from opening further.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, and hurriedly Thor crouched down, reaching for the package. With any luck, he could reach it and be back inside his rooms, making for the huge balcony and flying off to examine this thing, before whoever it was came asking questions. He couldn’t reach it standing, but if he crouched down and _reached_ perhaps—

A boot came down between his reaching fingers and the package, and Thor looked up to see Sif, her arms crossed, looking down at him. 

“Oh,” Thor said. “Hello, Sif.”

“What _are_ you doing, Thor?”

“I…”

She moved her foot, using the toe of her boot to nudge it toward his hand. “You’re welcome,” she said. “The Council of Regents is looking for you.”

“They should know I’m right where they left me.” Thor grasped the package and made to slide back inside, but Sif stuck an arm through the gap in the doors. 

“They sent me to find you.”

Thor was about to protest when he saw that her hazel eyes were twinkling, and she was trying not to smile. 

“I also have a message from Heimdall about something strange.”

“Something strange?” Strange was good. Strange meant that he wouldn’t have to sit through more sessions of trying to discern which path led to the least arguing between councilors. “We had best go investigate.”

“I think you were about to.” Sif gestured to the package. “But if I’m caught here, I will be in as much trouble as you will for dereliction of duty. Let me in, and let us see what is so strange about this.”

He did so, after checking to make sure they hadn’t been observed, and set the little cloth package on a table. It wasn’t anything special; the cloth was stained with dirt or something else. It had been a flat piece of cloth, but the edges had been pulled up and tied with a strip of leather. Something about it made Thor’s stomach queasy, and even Sif looked a little wary of it, handling the edges of the leather strip gingerly, as though it burned her to touch them.

“There’s something…” she murmured. Her eyes were unfocused, as though she was staring through the cloth, and Thor stayed quiet. Lately, Sif had been displaying more of this… whatever this was, some remnant of the magic that flowed through both her veins and her half-brother’s, or a side effect of… well.

“What is it?”

“I can almost see it. Someone has put a powerful spell on this.” She looked at him and tilted her head, indicating he ought to step back.

“Taking your job seriously?” Sif had been made head of the Royal Guard not long after certain events had occurred on his return, and had approached it with the same intensity as she approached all things.

“If you mean my job as your _friend_ , yes.” Sif’s fingers trailed over the knot in the leather strap and a few golden sparks shot off, bouncing across the table and burning out on the floor.

“Interesting…”

“I wonder what will happen if I try…” She reached forward to tug on both ends of the strap, and almost immediately there was a flash of light and a loud _snap_ and Sif was flying across the room, landing with a crash amid a pile of wall hangings and broken furniture. Before he could run to see if she was all right, something caught his eye, and Thor turned toward the now much more threatening package. It had only been an instant, but he couldn’t forget his father’s face.

Picking up Mjolnir from its resting place on a short column, Thor advanced toward the package. He felt a little foolish, bringing a weapon to bear on something so small, but the closer he got the stronger the tingle of magic across his skin was. And then there had been that image of his father, however brief…

He nudged it with Mjolnir and was greeted with another shower of sparks, swirling outward to stand opposite him, producing a perfect replica of his father. Across the room he could hear Sif struggling to get out of the pile of debris she’d made with her landing, but his focus was all on the projection. His father’s lips were moving, but the words…

“Dobu,” the projection said. “Fo fri ger norangun, ri jorn wercharla.”

“I don’t understand,” Thor said. The projection kept on speaking nonsense words, clearly intending to impart some message – something clearly urgent, because the projection was speaking quickly – but unable to do so.

“What is this?” 

Sif had reappeared, brushing bits of wood from her tunic, and together they watched the projection of his father speak its strange words. Something made the projection look over its shoulder, then say a few more words. With a crackle of ozone the projection started its message over again, until Thor reached out and touched the package. It dissipated in a thousand little sparks of light, and both of them stared at where it had been for a long moment.

“I don’t understand,” Sif said at last. “If he had some message for you, why not just say it, rather than putting it in this cipher?”

“I can only hope he had good reason to.” Thor looked down at the little bag, and wondered what it contained. “We had best bring this to the attention of the masters.”

*

Fingers sliding along the silver chain around her neck, Sif watched as Thor and the masters of magic conferred quietly, standing around a table laden with books and the innocuous bundle in the center of it all. The moment that magic had become involved, _he_ had been on her mind, his damnable laughing eyes and clever hands and the way he always seemed to know things.

_Somehow, Loki,_ she thought, _This is all your fault._

She could imagine his response, and indeed it came so strongly that she whipped around, looking behind her to see if perhaps he’d snuck back to the realm he’d been thrown out of after posing as the Allfather for months.

_But if it is, dear Sif, you’ll never be able to prove it._

“Sif?”

She blinked and came back to herself. Thor was walking over, the package tucked into his belt and a pained expression on his face. “Well?” she prompted, keeping pace with him as they left the hall of sciences. “What did they say?”

“They recognized the particular magic that the Allfather uses. Apparently each kind has a… stamp, or something, I could not fully understand…”

“So it was definitely sent by him.” 

“Yes. How, they’re not certain. They could not trace the magic back that far.”

“What does it contain?”

“They were uncertain about that as well. Something very old, and very powerful, but beyond that they had no idea. They were… hesitant to probe it further than they did. They said it has a kind of mind of its own, but it is not alive.”

“Then it is simple enough, we open the package and—“

“We cannot do that either.” Thor’s expression became even more sour, and Sif grabbed his arm and stopped him. 

“Why not?”

“The spell on the knot… it’s very particular about what it needs to be undone. _Very_ particular about the… participants.”

Sif stared at him, and when Thor looked away, that was all the confirmation she needed. 

“No,” she said. “No, you cannot do this, Thor—“

“We have no choice.”

“There has to be some other choice. That sorcerer your friends on Midgard told you about—“

“The masters say the spell is explicit,” Thor interrupted. He wasn’t happy, fidgeting with Mjolnir’s handle, spinning it in his palm. “If we want to undo the knot and know what my father said, we need him.”

Feeling a sense of panic she rarely encountered, Sif grasped for something, _any_ thing. She couldn’t see him again, couldn’t look at him, couldn’t… 

“He’ll ask you for something.”

“I know he will.”

“He may not even help!”

“I know my brother.” Thor ran a hand over his face. “He’ll agree. I know how you feel about him—“ and those words in that order made her feel sick again, like the floor was about to drop out from under her “—so I release you from your obligation as captain of my guard. I don’t want you to be… upset, like you were.”

Sif closed her eyes, centering herself before replying. “I’m coming,” she said resolutely. “He only ever really listened to me. I _can_ handle it, Thor.”

Thankfully, he didn’t question it, simply nodded and took her at her word. “Then get what you think you’ll need,” he said. “We’ll leave within the hour.”

*

Amid the clusters of people standing around the room, the woman in the smart black business suit stood out. “Sir,” she said, waiting the appropriate distance before being beckoned forward with a lazy wave of his hand.

“What is it?”

“There’s been a disturbance. We were told to keep you informed.” the woman said, handing him a tablet with data scrolling across it. He took it, tapping the buttons, playing the event over and over until he was satisfied.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Take the usual precautions.”

“Of course, sir.”

He handed the tablet back to her and resumed watching the gathered VIP guests – none of whom were quite bold enough to come up to talk and all of whom kept sneaking glances at their host – and the pulsing lights of the club beyond. A small kingdom, but he ruled it, and he would make sure it was protected from _unwanted guests._

When he rose, the members of his court parted before him, allowing him to go to the window and look out over the whole of the club, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He didn’t see any of it though, his mind whirling crazily.

_What brings you to Midgard, brother?_

*

“I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting to see you guys back anytime soon,” Tony said. “How’s things in space?”

“Better than they are here.” Thor’s brow had creased when they’d passed a room, obviously occupied at some point but now in the process of being packed up. There were several more rooms like that, but neither the falsely-effusive Tony Stark nor Thor seemed to be forthcoming on what had occurred, so she let it be. She preferred to stay as far out of the affairs of these Midgardians as possible, although not all of them were terrible.

Toying with the chain around her neck, Sif only half-listened to their conversation – something about Wakanda, a place she vaguely remembered from her history lessons long ago. She remembered them more for the fact that when he got bored, a much younger and more lighthearted Loki would animate the lessons, sending glowing green armies across their scrolls until their giggles brought the masters down on the three of them. Even then, she thought, even then…

“Sif?”

“Yes?” She let the chain drop back beneath her tunic, following Thor over to where Tony was standing beside a holographic display. 

“Lady Sif,” he said, “Still just as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on surveillance photos of you.”

“Thank you…”

“I mine the various intelligence agencies for interesting tidbits occasionally, and I found a particularly interesting set of data. You know, now that people are popping up with superpowers all over the place, it’s made a lot of people very nervous? Can’t imagine why.”

“Stark,” Thor said quietly, and Tony waved a hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it. Anyway, they like to keep tabs on unusual things going on, and, well, your baby brother’s pretty unusual, so…” he tapped a blinking dot on one of the maps. “I think we have him. Right here in New York City, because of _course_ , he can’t choose somewhere else to hang out.”

“How certain are you?” Thor asked. “If he hears we are looking for him…”

“Facial recognition has put him in the area, so it makes sense. And you’re not going to _believe_ what he’s been up to.”

*

“He’s here? You’re sure?”

“ _I saw them talking to Mr. Stark myself. The warrior and Thor. Stark told them where to find that black-haired asshole and they got in a car and left._ ”

“Why are they here?”

“ _I can’t be sure. But that thing you gave me was going _crazy_ , the detector thing. Levels of that weird radiation you talked about were off the charts._“

“That’s all I need to know. Your payment will be waiting for you in your account.”

She hung up and looked back at the door. Soon she’d be able to have her revenge.

*

The car pulled up beside the curb, and Sif looked dubiously at the long line of humans that snaked almost to the end of the block. “What did you say this was?”

“Kinda like a tavern, but with more blacklights and more expensive cocktails.” Tony pushed open the door, but didn’t get out of his seat. Thor, about to unfold himself from the seat, hesitated.

“You are not coming?”

“One close encounter of the asshole kind was enough for me. I’ll be on standby, but I’d rather stay out of this. We’ve got our own problems.”

A shadow passed over his face, but before she could ask about it Thor was getting out and holding a hand out for her. She needed it to help her navigate using the shoes that had been picked out for her guise as a normal Midgardian; they were tall, sparkly, and completely impractical. Thor was dressed in trousers and a shirt with buttons down the front, and she envied him; the dress she’d been loaned was brief, and with the winter chill in the air and piles of dirty snow on every street corner, she shivered a little harder.

They walked toward the front of the line, and the closer they got to the door, the tighter the knot in her stomach wound itself. _He_ was somewhere inside that building. She hadn’t seen him since he’d been escorted to Heimdall’s Observatory and ejected from the realm. How had he changed?

How _hadn’t_ he changed?

The Midgardian at the front was broad of shoulder, dour of visage, and completely unruffled when Thor sidled up to him and told him to let them in.

“I have very specific instructions not to let you in,” the man said. “I’m sorry, Thor. You’ll have to leave.”

“My brother is here—“

“And he’s the one who told me not to let you in.”

“This is ridiculous,” Sif muttered, and pushed forward. “Was there some instruction not to let _me_ in?”

To his credit, the man only let the barest hint of surprise show before he shook his head. “I’ll have to check with my supervisor.”

“So do it. It’s colder than the snow wastes of Helheim.”

While he turned away to ask, Thor pulled her aside. “Sif?”

“I can handle him, Thor. I have been doing so since we were children.”

“I know, but… would it not be difficult for you?”

“Of _course_ it will. But this needs to be done.” Sif raised her chin and squared her shoulders when the man turned back and gestured her forward. “Go wait with Tony Stark. I’ll be sure to signal if I require your aid.”

She walked inside.

The club itself was dark, and as her eyes adjusted, Sif got the impression that below her was a mass of humans moving to rhythmic music so loud it made her teeth rattle. An aide of some sort took her coat, and another one – a woman in a smart business suit – waited just to the side of a bar made of stone that appeared to glow and pulse with green light in time with the music. 

“I’ve been asked to escort you to see him,” she said. “I’ve also been asked to ensure you bring no weapons with you.”

Sif still felt wobbly in her shoes, but if nothing else, was confident she could kick them off and incapacitate this woman in two heartbeats. “You – and he – ought to know I will not divest myself of anything,” she replied.

The woman’s eyes darted to the side, above, and Sif followed her gaze. It was a mistake.

He was silhouetted against dim light from the room he stood in, windows overlooking the dance floor and terraced seating areas. Even from this distance she knew his eyes were on her, though; she could feel them, like cold fire on her skin, just as she always had. The knot in her stomach added another loop.

“I will take responsibility for it,” she told the woman. “Lead the way.”

Time was a funny thing. It couldn’t have been so far to cross the club and reach the doorway leading to a curving staircase leading up to the loft, but it seemed to stretch on forever, so that when Sif was finally climbing them, she had no real memory of the walk. One moment she was just inside the door, the next she was passing the woman in the business suit, and not thirty paces away, Loki stood before her, hands in his pockets.

For a moment her throat could not work, her mind was full of snow. He looked… she’d hoped that he’d have diminished somehow, that he’d have lost something that only Asgard could have given him. But he looked fit as ever, well-dressed as ever, and there was a glitter in his eyes that had dulled every time he’d been put inside four walls. He looked _good_ , and Sif kept herself from giving him a once-over by sheer force of will.

“Hello, Sif,” Loki said, voice smooth over the hypnotic music playing softly in the room. “It’s good to see you again.” 

For a moment she could almost fool herself into thinking that perhaps he’d changed, perhaps he was _better…_ and then he continued talking.

“I thought Asgard might send you to do their dirty work. The idea of my dear brother freezing outside while you come in here, dressed to impress—“ and _he_ gave her a long look, head to toe and back, and as pleasing as it was to see a _very_ familiar look on his face, she bristled “—gives me _great_ joy this Yule season. So what does he want?”

“ _He_ can tell you himself.” Sif crossed her arms, then realized this pushed her breasts up and put her hands on her hips instead. “I am no one’s messenger.”

Loki’s expression shifted. “I won’t let him in here,” he replied, petulant. “This is _mine_. I won’t let him take it.”

“Thor has no interest in this place, or anything else of yours.”

“Doesn’t he? It would be just like Thor _Odinson_ to invade. This kingdom might be small, Sif but it is mine.”

“We come requesting your aid. If your pride is too much to—“

“My pride has nothing to do with this.” Loki had begun pacing, but paused for a moment before gesturing the woman who’d led Sif upstairs over to him. He murmured something in her ear (Sif quashed a moment of jealousy, remembering what his voice sounded like in her ear with his body weight pressing down against her back) and then turned back to Sif, lips pursed. The weight of years hung between them, and she could feel it, a stone tied to a rope stretched between her heart and his. It could pull them together, or it could make them fall. Loki broke it first, turning and heading to the bar in the corner. The man standing behind it apparently knew what he liked, because a drink materialized immediately.

“If there’s one thing I know to be true of you, Loki,” she said at last, trying to work past… whatever it was she was feeling, “It’s that your pride is one thing you _cannot_ ignore.”

Loki didn’t look at her, instead taking a long draught from his glass. “We do share many of the same vices.”

“I don’t—“

“Are you _certain_ , Sif? _Are_ you? I remember differently.”

“Another vice of yours.”

“It is not _wrong_ just because _you_ disagree with it.”

“And it isn’t right just because _you_ believe it.” She glared at Loki, ire rising in her at how it seemed everything was rolling off him like water when she was left drowning. “Nothing about you has changed, Loki.”

“As inflexible as the place and the man that raised me.”

Sif was about to open her mouth when heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs and became Thor, following the suited woman. He stopped and looked between them.

“It’s as though nothing’s changed,” he muttered. Loki snorted, giving her a superior look, and uncaring of how it looked she crossed her arms, turning her back to them both. Before her the window looked out onto the dancing mortals, and she stepped forward, watching them while keeping one eye on the reflections of the men behind her.

“It’s good to see you again, Loki,” Thor said. He hadn’t moved; perhaps sensing trouble, the suited woman had disappeared somewhere. Sif wondered if it would be cowardly for her to follow.

“I could say the same. But you would know it for a lie, Thor, as you know _all_ things.”

“I only speak for myself.” Thor sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “Loki, I did not come here to fight with you. We need your aid-- _I_ need your aid.”

“And what makes you think I’ll give it?”

Sif turned around right as Thor reached into his pocket and pulled out the wrapped parcel. Loki went very still, his eyes gleaming as he reached out with long fingers and grasped it, his fingers tracing the leather ties and the shape within. “Where did you get this, Thor?”

“It hit my door this morning.”

“You accuse _me_ of being a liar—“

“He isn’t lying.” Sif stared Loki down. “I was there.”

“In his chambers?”

“No, in the hallway.”

“The masters say that there is a spell placed on it, a powerful one. It can only be undone by the both of us together, but none could tell what the trigger words may be, or what might need to be done.”

“The both of us…” Loki turned the small package over in his hands. “Did Odin send this?”

“They believe so. Why or how we know not—“

“It contains something very old, Thor, something incredibly powerful. How that doddering old fool got his hands on it... well, it should be a simple enough thing to undo whatever he’s done to it. Let me just—“

There was a flash of green, a rushing sound, and then both Loki and Thor were flying through the air, and the projection of Odin was standing before them, speaking gibberish again.

Loki struggled up, shrugging off bits of the wall he’d cracked open when he hit it, and watched with interest as the projection finished its unintelligible message and vanished. 

“Oh,” he said. “That _is_ interesting.”

While the staff were cleaning up the debris (Thor had put quite a dent in another wall) the three of them gathered around the little package. Loki was still prodding at it, the spells his finger was wrapped in throwing off sparks every time he did. Beside her she felt Thor tense up every time, and finally grabbed at Loki’s wrist, stilling his motion.

“Will you _stop?_ ”

Too late she registered the cool skin under her fingertips, the way Loki was looking at her hand as though he’d never seen it before in quite that way, the way Thor had gone very quiet suddenly. She let his wrist go. 

“The spell has two layers,” Loki said into the awkward silence. “The first is… whatever message it is Odin thought important enough to weave into the cloth of a rag. The second is a binding spell on this thing itself, containing the power of the Stone inside.”

“I thought nothing could contain the power of an Infinity Stone.” 

“So you _were_ paying attention in our lessons, Thor.” Loki waited a moment for a retort, but Thor just stared at him, and at last he coughed and moved on. “The spell is unraveling, it’s true, but Odin is a powerful sorcerer. That’s the only reason it’s held so long.”

“Perhaps there is a way to repair the spell.”

“There is not.”

“Are you certain? Perhaps if we asked—“

“If you’re going to mention that charlatan in Greenwich, don’t bother, he’s not _remotely_ equal to the task—“

“He held the power of an Infinity Stone himself.”

“Out of _sheer dumb luck_ , which most humans are possessed of in _staggering_ quantities.” Loki turned away briefly to look at something his assistant had brought him on a tablet, taking it from her and stepping away briefly to read the contents. Sif, fingers still burning from the memory of Loki’s skin, shifted so she didn’t have to see him. Thor was reaching behind the bar for a drink, the staff had all but finished cleaning up the debris from the walls. Loki’s assistant was waiting patiently for him to finish, and at first Sif’s eyes slid over her. On Asgard, while she’d quietly thank those serving at feasts, like the rest she often simply paid them no mind. 

Something, though, something made her stop and look back, and Sif peered at the woman, trying to figure out what it could be. She was certainly pretty enough for what Sif knew of Loki’s tastes – he did always surround himself with finery, material or otherwise – with red hair and cool blue eyes. It had been something in her eyes that had made Sif go back, though. 

The woman was watching her now, following her movements, and—there, for a moment, Sif could have sworn her eyes looked more like circuits. And there, had her face just… flickered? Like a projection without a clear signal?

It had, because the woman suddenly straightened, her strange eyes going wide, then narrowing down in focus. They didn’t move, they didn’t say anything.

Then they exploded into action.

The woman lunged forward, her arm stretched out toward the bar, toward the little package on the bar, as Sif moved to block her. Loki turned to see what was going on and threw a spell that missed, causing a set of vases across the room to explode in a burst of green light, and in a flash of lightning Mjolnir was rocketing through the ceiling and smacking into Thor’s palm.

It was too late, though; the woman’s fingers, shifting from their skin tone to a strange mix of silver, purple, and blue, had grabbed up the cloth-wrapped package. She held it triumphantly above her head, a wild look on her face.

“Finally,” she breathed. “ _Finally._ ”

“Pond,” Loki said, and Sif could see the spells dancing on the tips of his fingers, ready to be flung. “Put it down. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t? You think I’m just another stupid human, don’t you?” The woman reached up behind her ear and pressed something, and in a flicker of blue and pink, her face melted away and became the same mix of colors as her arm, purples and blues and silvery chromes. “You’re really not as smart as you think you are if you don’t recognize me. But I’m on kind of a tight schedule, so…”

She gathered herself and sprang out the hole in the ceiling Mjolnir had made. In the blink of an eye Thor was out after her, and then Sif was pushing herself up and running down the stairs, kicking off her ridiculous shoes as she went – there was no way she’d be able to keep up in them. As she ran she pulled a knife out of its hiding place; the gleam of the blade made people scream and jump out of her way. Except when they didn’t, and shifted into—

“Chitauri!” she shouted, and by the looks of it – and the screams – people recognized the aliens that had destroyed their city. Wishing she had her glaive, Sif nonetheless squared off with one of them, dodging its swings and darting in, her blade working fast, and the alien roared in pain as good Asgardian steel cut deep into its flesh.

Something hit her from behind, knocking the wind out of her. Sif stumbled, leaving her knife sticking out of the first Chitauri, and turned to face another one bearing down on her with some kind of bludgeon. She reached down between her breasts, feeling for the hilt of the knife she’d strapped to her torso, when a flash of green light sent the Chitauri flying away.

Looking over, Sif saw Loki storming over, green wisps trailing off him like an aurora as he advanced on the Chitauri that had caught her by surprise. Sif used that to grab the knife and throw it to join the other half of the set in the first Chitauri. It let out a horrible scream and went down, and she grabbed the knives out of it and went for the next one.

“How,” Loki snarled through clenched teeth as his back hit hers, “Did these things _get into my club?_ ”

“Clearly your guards are shoddy!” Sif looked over toward the entrance, now mostly free of mortals. “My glaive! It’s in my coat!”

Loki gave her a disbelieving look over his shoulder but nodded. She felt him throw two quick spells into the advancing circle of Chitauri. “How do you propose…?”

Sif grinned. “Remember that time in Niflheim, with the draugr?”

“I still have the scars, of _course_ I do. But there wasn’t a ceiling to hit then.”

“There will be no ceiling this time if you aim more carefully.” She edged away so he wasn’t caught in his own spell, feeling it already wrapping around her body. “On your own time, then!”

Loki made a jerking motion with a fist and Sif felt herself flying through the air. This time she was ready, though, tucking herself to land in a roll that brought her quickly to her feet. Vaulting the counter, she rifled through the coats until she found hers and pulled a small drawstring pouch out of it. Reaching in up to the elbow, Sif grasped the hilt of her glaive, collapsed down inside the enchanted pouch, and drew it out. As she ran to rejoin the fray she extended it, the two blades whistling through the air as she leaped over the railing and caught a Chitauri in the back. Then she was with Loki again, side by side and back to back and shifting every time, guarding with her glaive when he threw spells and going on the offensive whenever he needed time to spin one up.

It was almost like old times, when they were young and brash and the whole universe spread open before them for adventure. Like it had been when she would climb the walls of the palace to his chambers, or when he’d appear in a swirl of color to join her in bed. Like better times.

At last all the Chitauri were dead or dying, and Sif put the point of her glaive to the throat of one of the creatures as Loki knelt beside it, wisps of green connecting his fingers to the creature’s forehead.

“How long have you been working with Nebula?” he asked, voice too deadly calm. “How did you know this would happen?”

“ _Only a matter of time,_ ” the Chitauri gurgled, coughing up purple-black fluid.

“Why does she want it?”

“ _So her father can’t have it. You know, Asgardian. You were there._ ”

Loki paused, but then closed his fist, and with an awful squelch the Chitauri jerked and went still. Sif stepped back and collapsed her glaive down, watching as Loki stood and straightened, head cocked to the side slightly. “What does he mean?” she asked.

She knew the sly, slippery look on Loki’s face before he even turned to look at her and hid it. She knew that the next thing out of his mouth would be a lie, and sure enough… “Nothing.”

She came at him then, the edge of her knife blade to his throat, propelling him backward until his back hit the wall. “Would you like to try another answer, Loki? Perhaps one that is _not_ a lie?”

He swallowed, and this close she could see the way his pupils had blown wide, the way he tilted his chin up just so his skin pressed against the honed edge. He was watching her, very carefully, his hands pressed flat against the wall, probably thinking – as she was now – of the times when the drive behind their positions had been much, much different.

“When Thanos and I were working to a common end,” he said at last, and the huskiness of his voice made her want to sway into him, let him reverse their positions as he had so often before, “I learned that one of his… _daughters,_ Nebula, had come to resent him for the favoritism he showed to others. I learned, but said nothing. After all,” and he gave her a smile as bitter cold as the night outside, “I know what it means to be stolen, then put aside for a better model.”

It was bait, and Sif wasn’t going to take it this time. Instead she stepped back. “So you knew she might come?”

“If something worth her while happened to appear. Why do you think she chose to work for me when going undercover? I attract trouble, and Infinity Stones are trouble made manifest.”

The sound of distant explosions made them both run for the exit then. Most of the people who had been in the club had dispersed, and authorities were coming in. Loki took her by the arm and pulled her along the sidewalk, resisting her attempts to pull away.

“I don’t want to be here when New York’s finest call in my brother’s friends,” he muttered in her ear. There was the stomach-twisting sensation of his magic and suddenly they were in another part of the city and Loki was pressing her to the ground, tucking her under him as bolts of blue-white lightning flashed just overhead. The fine hairs on the back of her neck and her arms stood up, and she felt sparks of static between her and Loki as he shifted off her, pulling her to her feet.

“Come on!” he shouted at her, and then training took over and Sif was pulling out her glaive again, rushing at the Chitauri surrounding Nebula. More lightning from Mjolnir shot by her and one of the aliens caught it on their weapon. They roared with the effort of holding it, but the roar turned into a scream of pain when Sif’s glaive sunk into its heart. It dropped, and she turned back toward Thor. His Midgardian clothes had given way to proper Asgardian armor, gleaming in the neon lights of the buildings that surrounded the large square they’d found themselves in. 

“Glad to see you two could make it,” Thor said, giving her a measuring look. She raised her eyebrows, and he spread his hands for a moment. “There was a delay. I wondered.”

“Do we not have more important things to worry about than my romantic history with your brother?”

“I’m not his brother.” Loki’s suit had faded too, and the gold of his armor glittered against the green fabric and black leather. “You know that.”

“I thought I knew you,” Sif shot back, but resisted letting it go any longer. “Do we have a plan?”

“She has a device on her that can summon her ship.”

“How do _you_ know that, Loki?”

“I had one of my security team inventory her belongings once.”

“Right. So we keep her from leaving this realm with the Stone.” Sif hefted her glaive, wishing she had her armor. But she’d fought longer and harder in less than even this. “Simple enough.”

They sprang into action, and as they fell into a rhythm Sif could almost forget the last eight years had happened. This could be Svartalfaheim, or Nidavellir, or Vanaheim, some quest that would bring them all glory at the feast upon their return. Having Loki to her right and Thor at her left only served to further the illusion, and had she been a weaker woman Sif would have willingly, happily lost herself in it. All the pain in between would vanish.

But when she found herself squaring off against Nebula, the woman’s silver blades ringing as they struck her glaive, she was reminded of the fact that none of this would have come about had the man she loved not gotten foolish, _wrongheaded_ ideas. Gritting her teeth and wishing for her good sturdy boots rather than bare feet in the snow, she dug in and pushed Nebula’s blades back. Nebula stumbled, the tips of her weapons dragging in the icy grass, but she recovered quickly and came back fierce, her teeth clenched. Sif was forced to go on the defensive, keeping her glaive close rather than being able to use its reach to keep Nebula at a distance. It wasn’t a good position to be in at all, one Sif knew she had to change, but the strikes were coming too fast and hard for her to think of much beyond keeping herself safe. Thor was wrapped up with three Chitauri and Loki had problems of his own. Sif had to deal with this herself.

“I _will_ take this with me,” Nebula hissed. The package dangled off her belt. “I _will_ use it against my father. He ruined me, I’ll ruin _him!_ ”

Sif groaned, her muscles straining to hold her glaive before her as Nebula bore down. Sif’s glaive was caught between Nebula’s blades, unable to move, her hands frozen around the hilt. The package dangled enticingly not inches from her, but it was so far away…

It came to her in a burst, a sudden glowing image. She knew in her gut that her chances of getting away from this were slim, but she’d faced worse odds, and the outcome of this, regardless of what happened to her, was the only thing she cared about.

“I am sword and stone and the bitter ash of war,” Sif ground out, her eyes meeting Nebula’s. Though she couldn’t blanch, Nebula seemed to diminish, her eyes going wide in the face of Sif’s ferocity. “And I will not let _you_ best me! _Loki!_ ”

With that cry, and without looking to see if her call had been heard, she kicked out. Nebula’s skin was augmented with metal but she could still be surprised, and it was enough to make her try and move her leg out of the way and unbalance. _That_ gave Sif enough space to work with, and she pried a hand free of her glaive, snatching the package off Nebula’s belt and flinging it wide, hoping there was a pair of pale hands to catch it.

Then Nebula was screaming in rage, and with Sif’s stance broken and her grip compromised she couldn’t get her guard up in time to block the blade coming in, stabbing deep into her side and tearing on the way back out.

Faintly Sif could hear shouts, the sound of boots crunching in the snow. She was on her side—on the ground, when had _that_ happened?—and when she opened her eyes again all she could see was the snow sparkling in the lights. Then, slowly, the lights blurred into one, and she saw only black.

*

“Sif! _Sif!_ ”

Loki’s knees skidded on the icy grass as he dropped down beside her, hands going to the wound on her side. She was breathing, but they were slow and labored, and even as he pressed his hands to the gash he felt her blood seeping hot through his fingers. She’d always been able to make him feel warm, even when he thought he’d never be able to again. Now he just felt cold.

“Loki,” Thor murmured beside him. “Your hands—“

He looked down and saw that his hands were shifting, turning that hated blue, and yanked them away from Sif. _I’ll hurt her,_ Loki thought, panic rising in his chest. _I’ll hurt her, I’ll burn her, she’ll die—_

Apparently he’d been saying that out loud, because Thor grabbed him by the forearms. “She will not die,” he said, surpassingly calm. “Sif is strong. You know this more than I. More than anyone but Sif herself.”

“She’s bleeding—“ Loki yanked his arms away, turning back to her. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her, though, too worried that his Jotun heritage would cause her harm. His fingers twitched with the need, but his mind held them back, and never mind that he’d touched her in far more intimate ways, with far less control. Thor was rooting around in his pockets, rifling through the contents until he grinned and came up with a pearlescent stone.

“Here, take it.”

Without hesitation Loki took the healing stone and crushed it, letting the sparkling dust cover Sif’s side from shoulder to hip. There was the barest whiff of ozone, and her skin began to knit back together.

“While we wait,” Thor said after a moment, “We should…”

He looked at the package, half-buried in dirty snow, and fished it out. Loki could feel the tingle of magic against his palm, and the deeper vibration of the Stone inside. As with the others it purred in his mind, whispering of power and desires fulfilled. Loki shoved it aside.

“Well,” he said, trying to rally scraps of his usual demeanor (it rankled him for Thor to see him this way) for the occasion. “Let’s see what all the fuss was about.”

“How do you propose…”

Loki thought for a moment, then held up his other hand, green sparks dancing from finger to finger. “Something unique to each of us,” he said. “That will undo the spell.”

Thor raised Mjolnir, and together with Loki’s magic they touched the package, and instead of being thrown back from it light and color erupted around them, coalescing into the image of their father.

“ _Thor, Loki, if you are hearing this, truly hearing my words, then what I intended with the spell has worked. The stone is safer with the both of you than one alone, at least until it is secured. There are still places in the Nine Realms, more mundane places, that will serve. Simplicity is sometimes the best way to confound your foes.”_

The projection glanced at something they couldn’t see before continuing, in a voice that was softer and not at all like the monolith of a man that Loki remembered from his childhood. “ _My other goal, as I’m sure you’ve both ascertained, was to bring my sons back together. I have not been brave enough to admit the truth in my heart, that seeing my house so divided has been a burden on my soul. I am an old man, conscious of my many error, but I regret nothing more than how I have treated both of you. I have doubted too often, not listened when I ought to have done. Thor, I have not told you that I am so proud of the man you have become, sure in your convictions but willing to change. Loki…”_

Odin took a deep breath and Loki found himself doing the same, looking up at him as though he was still so young. _“I should have been better with you. I had many wrong thoughts, did many wrong deeds, did not care for you as I ought to have done. Know that now I only want you to walk in the light, and not to be burdened with regrets. None so young as you ought to have the cares of an old man like me.”_

Odin began talking more quickly. _“Keep the Stone safe, keep it hidden. Work together. And do not worry for me—Loki is not the only one who knows a few good tricks. And I… be well, my sons, and goodbye.”_

The projection faded, and both Thor and Loki sat in the snow for a long moment, processing what they’d both seen. Loki wanted to be angry – tried, very hard, to muster up some of the loathing for his adopted father that he’d nurtured over the years into a tangled garden of disagreements – but found only a hollow sort of irritation, one that was broken by Sif groaning behind him. 

They both turned. Sif had put a hand to her forehead, and when she opened her eyes a part of Loki that he’d thought long dead was pleased when he was the first thing she focused on.

“Did you catch it?”

He held up the little package for her to see and she smiled briefly.

“We saw the message the Allfather layered into the spell, too,” Thor supplied gently. “He asks us to find a secure place to hold it. I think perhaps somewhere other than the Collector’s Vault this time.”

“I think that’s a fine idea.”

“I would not want to make the journey out there again anyway.” Sif pushed herself up, and without thinking Loki extended his hand and helped her to her feet. Her hand was warm in his, and though he thought sure she’d drop it, she didn’t, not right away.

Thor’s friends arrived then, and he pulled them away from Loki and Sif, talking quickly. Loki let the leather and metal shift back into the suit he’d been wearing. Sif had let go of his hand, and looking at her in her torn dress, he shook his hands and conjured a warm fur, wrapping it around her shoulders.

“I may be able to stand the cold, but you aren’t,” he said. “Not dressed like that, anyway. Why weren’t you wearing your armor?”

“We were attempting to blend in, keep your attention off us.”

“Oh, Sif. You would always stand out to me.”

It was honest, more honest than he’d been with her or himself in a long time, and Loki shoved his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t even meet Sif’s eyes, but she seemed to accept it.

“If you’d been so forthcoming before, we would not have ended the way we did,” she told him.

“It’s one of my many vices.”

“The thing about vices being that usually, one works to correct them.” Sif hesitated, her fingers plucking at the edges of the fur. “I suppose neither of us are the usual kind of people.”

Silence fell between them. Across the park, Thor was explaining what had happened, and people had gathered to take pictures. He and Sif were not the center of attention, and perhaps that was what gave him the impetus to give voice to his idea.

“I have a plan, a place we can hide the Stone,” Loki said. “It would require you to stay on Midgard for a short time longer, but it would be secure. You would be able to stay with me, if you like, I would not refuse hospitality to—“

Sif stepped in close, her lips pressing just to the corner of his mouth. When she stepped back there was no shame on her face.

“We were too young before, I think,” she said quietly. “Brittle, easily broken. Now I am not sure, but I would like to try, if you would.”

_No regrets,_ Loki thought. “I think my little kingdom needs a queen.”

Sif was still smiling at him when Thor came back over. “They will not ask to take the Infinity Stone with them,” he said. “They leave it to us.”

“Nice of them.” Loki hefted the little package in his hand. Despite the awesome power it contained, it felt lighter to him. “I know of a place we can leave this, somewhere no agent of the Mad Titan seeking it will think to look. If he and I share anything, it would be arrogance.”

Thor studied him for a moment, but just nodded. “Very well.”

“Sif has agreed to stay, to provide her assistance.”

“Has she now.” Thor was grinning but blissfully kept his thoughts to himself. 

“She has,” Sif cut in. “We should not be out in the open with that for much longer.”

“I should return to Asgard, make my report. If you need assistance, you’ll call for me?”

Sif raised her chin. “We won’t need assistance. But we’ll keep you in mind.”

When Thor had gone and most people had dispersed, Sif turned to him, a smile playing about her lips. 

“I think I ought to know what kind of foolish plan you’ve concocted this time. But tell me somewhere out of the cold, Loki.”

She held out a hand, and Loki took it. After so long in the shadows it felt thrilling to hold her hand where anyone might see. 

“I know just the place,” he said, and pulled the shadows around them.


End file.
